From the German.
The clouds are blackening, the storms threatening,
And ever the forest maketh a moan:
Billows are breaking, the damsel's heart aching,
Thus by herself she singeth alone,
Weeping right plenteously.
The world is empty, the heart is dead surely,
In this world plainly all seemeth amiss:
To thy breast, holy one, take now thy little one,
I have had earnest of all earth's bliss
Living most lovingly.
Spring, 1800.
LINENOTES:
[[1]]
Countess (in a pressing manner). 1800, 1828, 1829.
[[3]]
The latest, &c. [They not appearing to attend to what she says, she steps between them.
1800, 1828, 1829.
[[9]]